Thursday, 18 December 2008

Gauls!

I used to be a smoker. Not, I hasten to add, a large receptacle full of glowing oak chips, designed to impart a delightful flavour and colour to trout or salmon. That would have been useful. I mean a smoker of cigarettes. But it didn’t end there; oh no. During my smoking career I tried pretty well everything. Ordinary cigarettes, roll-ups (with and without liquorice flavoured cigarette papers), cigars, cigarillos, black Russian fags, pipe tobacco smoked in rosewood pipes, in meerschaum pipes, and in long clay pipes that made me look either like Gandalf or some comic villager from a Thomas Hardy novel. The low point was Heath and Heather smoking mixture. Concocted from something called coltsfoot and other (legal) herbs, it stank like a bonfire.

Equally, it wasn’t unusual for me to try foreign cigarettes. I smoked Bisonte in Spain, Drava in Jugoslavia (the packet was made of brown paper with a picture of a toiling blacksmith on it), and the curiously-named N.E. Lunga in Italy. These latter were so appallingly dull that, on more than one occasion, I was forced to shout, ‘I can’t stand this N.E. Lunga!’

On the whole, my favourite foreign cigarettes were Gaulioses, which hail, of course, from France. When you lit up one of their Disques Bleues and took a lungful of thick smoke, which felt for all the world as if you were inhaling a lump of garlic and herb Christmas cake, you knew you were smoking a cigarette. This week, I noticed, predictably, that the French have handled the smoking ban in the same way they deal with pretty well all the legislation that comes out of the EU - they have ignored it, and continue to smoke in cafes, bars and restaurants. Although I no longer smoke, and welcome the smoke-free atmosphere that now pervades our pubs, I can’t help feeling a sneaky bit of admiration for the French.

This Gallic spirit, which could be characterized as ‘us against the rest of the world’, is nowhere better exemplified than in the Asterix cartoons. Created in 1959 by Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo, they follow the fortunes of Asterix, the plucky, moustachioed little Gaul, Obelix, his lumbering, menhir-delivering companion, and the rest of the inhabitants of their little Gaulish village as they resist the incursions of the Romans, led by Julius Caesar. Their village has a secret weapon in the war against Rome - a magic potion, prepared by resident druid Getafix (originally named Panoramix in the French version) that gives the Gauls temporary superhuman strength when fighting. It is Obelix’s constant regret that he is not allowed to drink the potion; his strength is permanent since he fell into a cauldron of the stuff as a baby. And I mustn’t forget Obelix’s little dog, Dogmatix (or Idéfix - meaning obsessed - in the French version).If you’re new to Asterix, you’ve probably noticed something about the names. They are invariably a play on words. Asterix sounds like asterisk; Obelix is a play on obelisk; and Getafix…well, I’m not sure how The Youth of Today would interpret this one! Other villagers’ names are a pun based on their trade or attributes; Geriatrix is an old man, Unhygienix is the fishmonger, and Cacofonix is the rather unmusical village bard).

Of course, this is a game we can all play. Gaulish mens’ names end in an ‘x’; womens’ (generally, but not necessarily) in an ‘a’, and the name chosen should reflect the individual in some way. And Christmas is traditionally the time when people get together and play silly games.

C'mon! Let’s play!

Masochistix - A downtrodden villager who, curiously, is happy to be so.

Dominatrix - His wife who, not unsurprisingly, takes advantage of the situation.

Aviatrix - A young druidess with dreams of flying. When she can get hold of some of the magic potion, that is.

Backsacncrax - Owner of The Village Spa, a place of calm and relaxation.

Plucka - His wife, who takes an active role in the business.

Botox and Collagena - Their trainees.

Horlix - The village 'bike' (suggested by a person who claims to be my daughter).

Egomaniax - A self-obsessed Gaul.

Monomania - His rather dull wife .

Weetabix - A spelt farmer.

Goneballistix - A villager with a very short fuse.

Consiliata - His wife, who is constantly apologising for him.

Prefix and Suffix - Identical twins. One is always ridiculously early for everything, whilst the other is always terribly late.

Earlier today, whilst wandering through the echoing halls that are The Internet, I thought, ‘Let’s have a look at the Parc Asterix website. It’s a theme park, fairly near EuroDisney, and devoted to all things Gaulish. A good place for children from all over Europe to visit, you’d think, especially as you can buy Asterix books in just about every language, including Latin. And guess what? Unlike its American owned rival, it steadfastly refuses to provide site information in anything other than French!

Ah! Derrix! Should have said - more excellent characters from you for the cast. So far I have fought shy of Anthrax (rather unhealthy individual), Allodux (inexpensive Woman of the Night) and Pollux (unfortunate sufferer from Tourette's).

And speaking of forgotten people, let's not forget Anthea Bell and Derek Hockridge who provide the English translations of the books and are, therefore, responsible for many of the brilliant names (a particular favourite of mine is the Egyptian Ptenisnet!) And here's a bit of trivia (Trivia isn't a character) for you ...

Translator Anthea Bell’s father Adrian Bell (1901-1980) was the man who invented The Times newspaper’s famous cryptic crossword. Her son, Oliver Kamm, is a columnist for The Times. And her brother, Martin Bell OBE, was a BBC war corespondent before becoming an independent MP ('The Man in the White Suit', remember?)and ambassador for UNICEF (United Nations Children’s Fund).